Between Black and White
by Alias-Allia
Summary: Sydney is captured by Sark and discovers a secret about Vaughn that even he doesnt know. SV and maybe a little SS. Try this fic on for size, then r and r.


Long lost words, whisper slowly, to me  
Still can't find what keeps me here  
When all this time I've been so hollow inside  
I know you're still there  
Watching me, wanting me  
I can feel you pull me down  
Fearing you, loving you  
I won't let you pull me down  
Haunted, Evanescence  
  
______________________________________________________________________  
"Vaughn, I cant."  
"You have to," She could hear his voice, the pain evident yet held back  
for her benefit. "Syd, you have to...it's the only way, Syd please...I want to  
see you again. I cant live without seeing you again."  
She felt the cold steal of Sark's weapon pressing into her temple.  
"I have to go...Vaughn..."  
"Sydney...I...I love you."  
She fought herself, her eyes misting over in the realization that the only  
chance to tell him the truth was being swallowed by a Catch-22 manifested  
in the cold steal of the gun Sark pressed against her head. A nudge of the  
metal made her head throb, and told her that her time with Vaughn had run  
out. She severed her connection to him, removing the transmitter from her  
ear.  
"Give it to me." Sark's voice was as cool and calm as ever, and his hand  
was just as cold as she brushed his thumb with her own.  
As soon as the earpiece was deposited in the palm of his hand he dropped it  
with the slightest movement of his arm. He then lifted his black leather  
boot and brought it down against the delicate metal and wire-work of  
Marshal's carefully constructed earpiece. Sydney willed herself not to  
move a muscle as her lifeline was shattered, the cold gun burning a frozen  
hole against her cheek.  
Sark pressed it in further, gaining her attention. She slowly raised her  
eyes to him, hiding behind the coldest, most stubborn expression she could  
muster. She would not let him see her aching, or feel the fear that burned  
inside her. She had to gain back the adrenaline of the fight, she could  
not let her mind linger on anything that would distract her from the  
present.  
"Listen to me carefully, Miss Bristow," The edge of Sark's lopsided mouth  
tilted in a sign of myrth whose humour was completely lost on Sydney. "I  
will remove the gun from your head, but only on one account," He paused,  
seemingly leaving a space in which she could voice her intentions. This  
ridiculous addition of courtesy, as if she had any choice, infuriated her.  
She would not speak! He couldn't make her concede to his forceful  
politeness, even if he tried to make her conform to his plans.  
"I will take that as a yes, Miss Bristow. Now, pay attention."  
Right. Sydney thought. As if having your damn gun attached to my head  
isn't keeping me attentive.  
"You will come to Florence with me, there you will meet with my handler.  
He has a proposition for you."  
"What the fuck do you want from me?!" Sydney had not been meaning to voice  
her confusion and fury, but to watch and wait for the best chance to flee  
the scene, or undermine Sark's mission. She lowered her eyes, momentarily  
wary of what reaction her outburst might trigger, but immediately looked up  
again-staring a rather amused Sark straight in his brilliant blue eyes.  
"An interesting question to ask, Sydney," Her jaw clenched, what right did  
he have to address her on a first name basis?? "I think you will find my  
handler to be of unparalleled interest."  
"Why would you think that?"  
Something in his eyes glinted, a coldness that she recognized. It was the  
look that she had seen before, but only when Sark was committing the kind  
of unexplainably evil act that he was known for. Only when he was  
destroying a life, or taking something irreplaceable from another human  
being.  
"When you meet him you will know. In a way, you and he are very well  
aquainted."  
"What do you mean?!"  
Sydney's head was beginning to pound from the unnecessary pressure of the  
gun to her temple.  
Sark suddenly smiled, as if he found something immeasurably funny in what  
she had just said. As soon as that cold grin had appeared, it vanished...but  
there was a cold sense of enjoyment in his eye as he pressed the gun more  
forcefully against her head. Sydney struggled to keep her neck straight.  
"I was just thinking," Sark said. "That if we were from the rest of the  
world, Sydney Bristow, I could tell you that your mother was very close to  
this man, and that would be enough for you to trust me when I tell you that  
the experience of meeting him will change your life." Sark sighed. "But  
isn't it interesting? You and I, Sydney, are not from that world. People  
like us play with fire every day, as if we are on another plane of  
existence." He leaned down slightly, enough to be only a few inches from  
her face. The gun, however, was still firmly pressed against her aching  
head. "Sydney, Sydney...how many times have I tried to tell you that the  
world is not black and white. It never could be, you know. I don't  
suppose it will help to tell you that again, now, though your life is  
enough to prove this." He sighed again, and Sydney was nearly surprised to  
find that this sigh seemed to come from somewhere deep inside Sark, a  
somewhere that Sydney was sure Sark did not posses. "I have told you this  
Sydney, but you still need to know my reasons. As if you and I could ever  
trust one another, as if it is possible to trust anyone in a world where  
people are blind to the colors that pass before their eyes."  
Suddenly he lifted the gun from Sydney's head. It seemed to spin in the  
air above her head.  
"I will tell you his name, Agent Bristow. Then you will understand."  
Sydney stared at the spinning gun, "I will understand what."  
"You will understand," said Sark, placing his hand under her chin and  
forcing her to look into his indigo eyes. "Why meeting my Agent Vaughn  
will change your life." 


End file.
